Descent
by Daedric Princess of Madness
Summary: Before he rechristened himself Lord Voldemort, he was Tom Riddle. And he went to Hogwarts just like every average Wizard and Witch in Britain. And most considered him normal, much to his dismay.
1. Prologue

**A/N: I have been wanting to do this story for quite awhile, I just didn't have the guts then.**

**I'm going to give it a try now.**

* * *

_**Prolouge: December 31st, 1926.**_

Merope walked down the dark, twisted streets of London, clutching her stomach. She was going to give birth to _his_ child. Tom's son or daughter and he wouldn't be there to see it.

She could have used magic to make the pain better, but Merope couldn't do magic anymore. She didn't have it in her. She didn't have anything in her now that Tom had left her and went back to his parents.

Merope looked all over. She had been directed to the local hospital that was somewhere nearby and hopefully she would have the baby there.

But the contractions were getting worse. Merope doubted she would make it in time before the baby was born, so instead she knocked on the nearest door.

It was an orphanage.

Wool's Orphanage.

Merope took in a deep breath, expecting someone to turn up and send her away. Instead, the young girl who was at the door - she looked about Merope's age - insisted on helping her and took her to a large bedroom at the back of the house where she and two other women surrounded the bed, helping her. Merope could barely remember any of it.

Merope could barely hear or see a thing, but she heard someone say "it's a boy!" and Merope felt a warm bundle in her arms.

Her vision cleared and saw her newly born child in her arms. Her son had dark hair and his features were like his father's.

"What's the child's name?" Merope heard the girl inquire.

"Tom...Marvolo...Riddle," Merope said, and then babbled about the meaning of her son's name.

Merope's vision started to fade again.

She realized she was dying.

"I hope...I hope he looks like his papa," she whispered.

Then everything was gone.


	2. Orphanage

**_Chapter one: Orphanage._**

_Five years old._

Mrs. Cole came out of the room with a basket. Tom had supposed it was laundry, but it turned out to be sweets.

"It was given to us," she had explained. "Someone was kind enough to think of you children."

_For a change,_ Tom thought angrily. He was five, but even he knew how the know one cared a bit for the orphans of London. People didn't want to have another person's child when they could have their own.

Mrs. Cole handed out bunches of sweets to the children surrounding her. By the time Tom managed to get to her, there were only two lollipops left.

"Can't you get some of them to give me more candy?" Tom asked, as politely as possible.

Mrs. Cole shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Tom," she said. "But I think they've probably eaten it all by now."

They hadn't. Tom knew they hadn't. He knew the only reason Mrs. Cole was making up excuses was because she hated him.

They _all_ hated him.

He grudgingly took the lollipops and retreated to his bedroom, wishing he could have more sweets. He wanted to be treated as equally as the other stupid children for a change.

As soon as Tom shut his bedroom door, his pockets were filled with sweets.

Tom was confused. He didn't know how he managed to get not just more lollipops, but shortbread and chocolate as well, but after awhile of wondering how…  
He decided he just didn't care.

* * *

_Nine years old._

For the longest time, Tom thought about his mother and father. Had they been special, like he was?  
Or was he the only one?

Tom didn't know much about his parents - all he knew was that he shared his father's name. But he knew plenty about himself.

He had figured out how to do things. How to move things with his mind - to the point where the younger children were scared of what he could do they never told Mrs. Cole. He also then took whatever of their possessions he wanted. Tom now had a box full of things in his wardrobe - yoyos, bottle caps, thimbles and even Shelly Johnson's cards.

_I can have or do anything I want to,_ Tom thought as he started making his cup of water float. _I can make them hurt if I want to-_

Suddenly, there was a loud bang and Tom's bedroom door burst open. Billy Stubbs was standing in the doorway. He was only a couple of years older than Tom, but he was ridiculously tall. Tom remembered being scared of him when he was little.

Billy didn't scare him now. At least not the same way.

After all, he had seen the cup floating.

"Riddle!" Billy snapped. "Where's Amy's doll? I gave that to her with my own money and -"

There was a sudden pause.

"So you _can_ do weird things?" Billy's voice was a mixture of fright and awe. "I thought those stupid toddlers were lying, but now-"

Tom met Billy's eyes.

"You will not tell Mrs. Cole," Tom said coldly.

"Oh, yeah?" Billy asked.

"Yes," Tom replied. "Because if you do, you'll regret it."

But Billy didn't listen, he babbled to Mrs. Cole as well. Of course, Mrs. Cole didn't believe him just like she didn't believe anyone else, but Tom knew better than to break his promise.

Billy Stubbs _was_ going to regret it.

So that night, Tom got out of bed and took Billy's bunny with him, using his abilities to hang the rabbit from the rafters.

* * *

_Ten years old._

Mrs. Cole was in the back of the bus, telling Dennis and Amy a story. It was one of those fairytales about magic, and a princess who lost a glass slipper. Then there was another princess who lived with seven little men, and then another who fell into a prolonged slumber.

_Did they ever get tired of princesses?_ Tom thought. Tom liked those stories once upon a time, too.

But they lost their novelty when Tom found out about what made him special.

They were going to be camping on the beach. Tom hated camping. All he wanted was to be back at the orphanage, in the privacy of his bedroom.

Because Tom had decided to fake illness while everyone else was setting in, he overheard Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop talking.

"...do you think magic's real, Dennis?" Amy asked.

Dennis was about to open his mouth to speak, but Tom spoke first.

"But of course magic is real," Tom began.

That was when the two children looked up at Tom, interested. They were no more than six and both impressionable. And Tom grinned as he began to formulate his plans.

Amy and Dennis followed him to one of the high cliffs nearby and Tom felt a rush of satisfaction as the two children's expressions turned fearful.

"Tom...what are we going to do?" Dennis asked.

"We're going to fly," Tom said, matter-of-factly. "You wanted to know about magic, right?"

Slowly, they nodded.

_I need to go down this cliff,_ he thought. _And take these brats with me too._

They slowly floated down the side of the cliff, and as they did so, Amy let out a scream.

"Shut up," Tom snapped at her. He then quickly made his voice polite again. "If you want to see the magic, then you need to be brave."

They went lower until they entered a cave, Amy and Dennis trawling behind Tom, shaking.

Then, there was a snake basking on one of the sunlit patches of the cave.

_"Lost, are you boy?"_

The snake spoke to him! The snake actually spoke! Tom was thrilled.

_"Not lost,"_ Tom said back, and then flashed Amy and Dennis a cruel look. _"Exploring."_

Tom wasn't sure that snakes could have facial expressions, but if they could, the snake would have scowled at him.

"Tom," Dennis whispered, "Me and Amy don't wanna learn magic no more…"

"SHUT UP," Tom roared.

The snake began to slither towards the three children. It was larger than Tom expected.

Even he knew when to leave.

Amy nor Dennis spoke of that day again. Tom made sure of it.


	3. Magical Wonders

**_Chapter two: Magical Wonders._**

Tom rushed to his room, exhausted after handwashing all the light clothes Mrs. Cole had assigned him to do. Almost all of the children - with the exception of the babies and toddlers - had to do some kind of chore.

That was when he heard Martha - one of the younger girls working at the Orphanage, call out for Mrs. Cole.

"There's a Mr. Dumbledore here to see ya, ma'am!"

Tom was interested now. Who in the world was Mr. Dumbledore? Some kind of entertainer? With that name, he might be. With that, Tom peered over the edge of the stairs and saw an older man with long auburn hair and very interesting garb step into the house, and followed a flustered Mrs. Cole to the back of the Orphanage. To Mrs. Cole's office.

The children were never allowed into Mrs. Cole's office, unless they were in tons of trouble. Tom had never seen inside of it, fortunately. Though he had come close, several times. When no one was looking, om rushed downstairs so he was close enough to hear.

"...he's a strange boy, Tom…"

So they were talking about him! How dare they!

"So he definitely has a place at this...school...then?"

School? Was it a school for the mad? Probably. And Mr. Dumbledore was probably here to take him away!

"...I suppose you'd like to see him?" Tom heard Mrs. Cole ask.

For the first time, Tom heard Dumbledore speak.

"Very much."

"Then follow me."

Tom panicked, and then rushed back to his room, flopping himself across the bed. He didn't want to seem to expectant.

"Tom?" Mrs. Cole began, opening the door. Goodness, the woman didn't know how to knock. "You've got a visitor."

That's when Tom got a better look a Dumbledore. He seemed a bit older now that Tom had seen him, but not really old at all.

"This is Mr. Dumbleton - sorry, Dunderbore -" Mrs. Cole continued. At that time, Tom resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "He's come to tell you - well, I'll let him do it."

That was when Mrs. Cole left the room, leaving Tom with Dumbledore.

"How do you do, Tom?" Dumbledore asked, polite as could be. Very polite for someone who taught the insane.

Dumbledore held out a hand and after a moment of considering it, Tom returned the gesture and they shook hands.

"I am Professor Dumbledore," Dumbledore said.

"'Professor'?" Tom repeated, sensing his own skepticism in his voice. "Is that like 'doctor'?"

Tom mentally kicked himself. If he said too much, Dumbledore would know Tom had heard them!

"What are you here for?" Tom continued. "Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

With that, Tom nodded towards the door where Mrs. Cole had exited a few moments previously.

"No, no," Dumbledore said.

Tom resisted the urge to scream. Dumbledore was _smiling._

"I don't believe you," Tom sneered. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

That was when Dumbledore went into brief explanation about the school he taught at - Hogwarts. _Hogwarts, indeed,_ Tom thought angrily. _The old cow just wants me locked away in the loony ward!_

When Tom voiced these opinions to the stranger sitting in front of him, Dumbledore still remain calm. Surprisingly so, was what Tom thought.

"I am not from the asylum," Dumbledore said. "I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you too -"

"I'd like to see you try," Tom sneered, but sat on the edge of his bed anyway. They could try and drag him to the asylum, he'd only use his powers to get away! And scare the lot of them so no one would come near him ever again!

"Hogwarts is school for people with special abilities -"

"I'm not mad!" Tom almost shouted.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes this time, but still spoke in that eerily calm voice. "I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."

There!

Tom felt his eyes widen. Magic? It was _really_ magic, what he could do? Tom had just made up that story on the spot to get Amy and Dennis to follow him last year.

"What is it you can do?" Dumbledore asked.

Tom then realized he had said that aloud.

"All sorts," he replied. "I can make things move without touching them, I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me…"

It took Tom considerable pains to finish the sentence.

"...I can make them hurt if I want to," Tom admitted.

Tom sat back on his bed.

"I knew I was different," Tom whispered. "I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."

* * *

"Well, you were quite right," Dumbledore said. "You're a Wizard."

That was when Tom asked Dumbledore lots of questions. Dumbledore then revealed a stick. Dumbledore waved it around and Tom's wardrobe burst into flames.

Tom jumped to his feet. The wardrobe had every single one of his precious possessions. All the ones he took from the others...

Tom didn't want to arouse suspicion, so he turned back to Dumbledore with a smile. Or at least he attempted to make it seem like a smile.

"Where can I get one of them?" Tom asked, pointing to the stick.

"All in good time," Dumbledore replied. "I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe."

Tom turned his focus back to the wardrobe, where it was now shaking.

"Open the door," Dumbledore said.

Reluctantly, Tom opened the door and saw the shoebox he was keeping everything in was shaking. Tom picked it up.

"Is there anything in that box you ought not to have?" Dumbledore asked.

Tom didn't know what to say. _He knew!_ Was there some sort of magic that allowed people to read minds?

"Yes, I suppose so, sir," Tom said slowly. Dumbledore had already instructed that Tom was supposed to address him as "Professor" or "sir."

"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," Dumbledore instructed. "I shall know when it is done."

Tom resisted the urge to scowl.

"And be warned: Thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts," Dumbledore concluded.

* * *

Dumbledore had given Tom some Wizarding money and the directions to Diagon Alley. Dumbledore would have sent someone to go with Tom, but Tom didn't want him to.

Tom knew London well enough. He could go by himself.

At least, Tom _thought_ he knew London. Diagon Alley was something else entirely. If Tom didn't know any better, he would have assumed it was another planet.

First he went to Madam Malkin's to get fitted. Madam Malkin was a young woman who had just opened the store and made comments about Tom's appearance. Apparently he was too thin.

Next he went to Flourish and Blotts to buy all his books, most of them second-hand. Tom also bought various potions supplies, scurrying past the broomstick shops. Tom wasn't interested in flying.

Then, he got what he was waiting for last.

A _wand._

Ollivander's Wand Shop was the only place that sold them in Diagon Alley. And it wasn't easy to miss.

Tom went through several wands. The first wand was made of holly and unicorn hair, and was eleven and a quarter inches long. Tom didn't care what it was made of however, he just wanted his wand.

The second one was made of ash and dragon heartstring, and was eleven inches long. Tom waved this wand around and ended up breaking several glasses on the side of the room.

"It matters not!" Ollivander insisted before handing Tom a very strange looking wand. Tom studied it for several minutes before Ollivander spoke up.

"Yew, phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches long," Ollivander explained. "It's by far one of the best wands I've made in a good few years. Give it a wave."

That when Tom felt something - he didn't know how to explain what he felt - and then put the wand down.

"I think you've found your match, Tom," Ollivander said.

The wand cost seven Galleons. Expensive, but well worth it.


	4. Parseltongue

**_Chapter three: Parseltongue._**

A month later, Tom got to go to Hogwarts. He was a little confused at the prospect of going to Hogwarts at platform nine and three quarters, but eventually figured it out from watching other wizards.

The other young Wizards on the train paid him no mind, as Tom prefered. He sat for a great majority of the journey alone, with the sweets he bought with leftover money for Gringotts.

* * *

The headmaster, Armando Dippet, explained to them all about being sorted into their houses. Tom had no idea what house he would be sorted into. He was fairly certain he was brave, smart and cunning. All in all, he knew he wasn't going to be a Hufflepuff.

He stood in line with several first years, waiting to be sorted by the old hat. Tom then heard several names being called, Lestrange and Malfoy were in Slytherin. McGonagall was in Gryffindor. There also several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, but Tom didn't remember any of their names.

"RIDDLE, TOM."

Tom stepped forwards and sat on the little wooden stool.

_"Hmmm….let me see. You're brave, so you could easily be sorted into Gryffindor. But you're also very clever...no no, I don't think Ravenclaw is quite right either."_

_So what am I?_ Tom thought. _Where do I fit in?_

_"You're quite cunning. In fact, you possess several qualities old Salazar himself did. You can speak to snakes, dear boy?"_

"SLYTHERIN!" The hat cried. Tom then got off the stool and went to sit with the rest of the Slytherins.

"...did you see her?" two of the older boys were talking in hushed whispers. "I can't believe the way this school is going. Letting in Mudblood filth…"

Tom looked up. He had no idea what 'Mudblood' meant and he asked.

"You're young, aren't you?" one of the boys asked him. "You're parents probably wouldn't have told you what the word meant."

Tom didn't add that he had no parents.

"Nevermind, I'll tell him," the other Slytherin boy said. "Mudbloods are really people who steal their magic -"

"- you're born with it and you get it through inheritance," the other boy interjected. "You can't just get it from nowhere. But Armando Dippet's gone a bit soft, he has."

Tom suddenly worried. What he was a 'mudblood?' What if he wouldn't be accepted by these boys.

"Luckily, no Mudbloods will ever end up in our house," a much older boy said. "We're Slytherin's house. And Slytherin only accepts the best. Not filth."

Tom suddenly felt a lot better.

* * *

Later that night, in the Slytherin Common room, a boy brought up a Ball Python.

"Where'd you get that, Crabbe?" one of the boys asked.

Crabbe grinned.

"He's mine," Crabbe explained. "There was no way I was going to just bring a boring owl, cat or toad. My parents have connections," he bragged.

The snake looked at Tom.

_"Idiots,"_ the snake hissed. _"Don't these children know I'm not to be trifled with?"_

Tom gulped.

"I don't think they do," Tom replied.

"Merlin's beard!" one of the boys cried. Macnair, Tom thought his name was. "You know Parseltongue!"

Tom narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"I guess it's normal for you not to know about that, either," Abraxus Malfoy said. "Generally, Parseltongue is associated Slytherin House because Salazar Slytherin himself was a Parseltongue. It's very rare."

Tom felt happy to learn it was rare. It meant there was something special about himself, even in the Wizarding world.


End file.
